Trip To The ER By Myself

“Health is like money, we never have a true idea of its value until we lose it,”
— Josh Billings

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Dear readers or whoever stumbled across this post,

Hospitals. Fuck them.

I know many people hate hospitals, especially after COVID-19, but I’ve been to so many hospital emergency rooms that it’s sad.

I was born “healthy,” I didn’t have any complications or post-birth surgeries that needed to happen, so I was “healthy.” That all changed as I grew up.

There was always something wrong with my health. I once had a rash on my arm that started as something small on the inner side of my elbow, and then it spread to my entire arm. The funny thing was, it was two different rashes. The one on the inside of my elbow was one rash, and then all around it, from my shoulder to the hand, was another. How did that happen, you might ask? I have zero fucking ideas. The doctors didn’t know either; they were also confused but gave me two different rash creams and sent us on our way.

There was also the time I had a tongue infection. I couldn’t eat, talk or drink appropriately for a few months. The time I laughed so hard, I got a nosebleed, and an ambulance had to come to bring me to the hospital because it wouldn’t stop bleeding for twenty minutes, and the doctors had to freeze the inside of my nose. There was the other time when I nearly broke my ankle. Or the time I couldn’t breathe (it was anxiety). At the time when my thumb got stuck in a weird position, and I needed to get surgery. Or the time I got a concussion. I could go on and on and on.

I was constantly going to the hospital and constantly in the hospital’s waiting room in the emergency room with my parents. It was hell, but I knew the drill and the wait time would be extended.

This time, however, I waited for twelve hours.

Since I was at school in another city, far from where I grew up, I had to go to the hospital myself. My roommate offered to come with me because she was scared I would pass out on the way there, so we went together. When I went through triage and registration, I found out the wait time was at least ten hours; I sent her home because it was already nine PM and she had classes the next day.

So there I was, waiting for twelve hours because of Sammy (my weird seizure-like movements). I had eight seizure-like episodes in the waiting room; two nurses witnessed me have them, but nothing happened.

Now I understand that in the ER, they go by order of emergency, hence the emergency room. I know that the people in the waiting room get pushed down the line if the ambulance comes through. I don’t know where I fell in the order of importance, but I guess pretty low since I watched as people who came in after I got called in before me.

I couldn’t sleep because I was alone, and Sammy kept coming, so I stayed awake. It was an overnight stay, and I spent most of the time staring out into nothing and pacing. I didn’t want to use my phone because I needed to call an uber home, and I couldn’t use the batteries just in case I needed to contact my parents. I brought a book but couldn’t read it because my head hurt.

Was I bored? Not really; my mind tends to occupy itself by having a million thoughts run through it every second of every day.

Some random guy came up to me and asked if I was there because my school had caught fire; I said no. Then he asked something about chemicals, and I said no. Then he asked if the police had taken me, and I said no. Then he asked if the police had raped me, and I said no. But then he said I was lying and walked away, so that was an “exciting” conversation with a stranger at four AM in a hospital room.

Then the same guy got kicked out because he apparently never went through the registration process and wasn’t even supposed to be in the hospital. So he left, returned thirty minutes later with an orange sign that I couldn’t read, and got kicked out again. Then he came in through the ambulance bay, and six security guards came to escort him off the property, and I never saw the guy again.

That had nothing to do with me, but it was fascinating to witness. I was tired and bored, which was like watching a mini show.

When I finally got called to see the doctor — this part was fast — I didn’t get a diagnosis or how to stop them. I was just told I needed to see a neurologist, and the neurologist would test me and then I would find out what it was. That meant getting a referral; if you’ve ever had to get a referral somewhere, you would know how long these things take. It isn’t enjoyable and such a long waiting process.

But when I talked to the doctor, he seemed nice, but I could tell he was in a rush. He kept checking his watch, spoke fast, looked everywhere else and gave me a look that screamed, “hurry up.” I was tired, I hadn’t slept in like 36 hours, my head was hurting crazy, my stomach felt like it was on fire, and I was dizzy, so my brain was functioning slower, so I spoke slower and kept losing my train of thought. I felt like I was a burden on him, and everything happened quickly.

I also felt as if I was being passed off or dismissed. Everyone acted as if it wasn’t essential or life-threatening; maybe it wasn’t, but to me, it felt life-threatening. As I keep saying, I’m not a doctor or some medical professional. I don’t know nor understand the human body, so what I’m experiencing feels serious. I mean, my body is randomly convulsing, it makes my headache worse, they last for hours, I can’t sleep, and the next day I feel like a barely functioning human being. All those symptoms, but to everyone there, it’s not essential. Maybe it isn’t, but I felt almost ignored or like I was going crazy.

I took an uber home, and I was fighting tears the entire time. The uber also seemed impatient with me, and since I’ve never called an uber myself, I was confused. He kept telling me to hurry up and get out of the car, and it wasn’t helping that I felt like throwing up and fainting at any given second, but I didn’t want to be a burden, so I jumped out.

I ended up crying the second I got into my room, and I called my friend, and she came over. She made me breakfast and tea and made sure I ate before she had to go to classes. I then slept the entire day.

I still don’t know what is wrong with me. I still have no idea how to stop it. And I have my second round of midterms coming up, and I feel like utter shit 95% of the time.

I understand that after COVID, many healthcare workers have quit due to the stress, and I get that. There was only one working doctor and many patients to see during the overnight shift, so it was moving slowly. I don’t want to wait for 12 hours, but I would because I understand they are short-staffed. I don’t want to feel it ever again because they dismissed me. I was by myself, I wasn’t at my total capacity, and I was in pain and feeling horrible, but all I got told was, you’re getting a referral; goodbye now. I didn’t feel heard, and I hated that. It didn’t trump any of the fears I have for what’s going on; I feel as if I’m getting worse, but there’s nothing I can do now.

If go back to the hospital and am told the same thing.

My friend’s sister had to go to the hospital three times since she was throwing up so much, and the doctors had ruled it off as nothing serious. They didn’t take her seriously until she practically begged and cried to get an MRI, and that’s when they found out she had a tumour in her brain.

I’m not saying they are incompetent, but I feel that sometimes they rule you off as nothing serious until you die in front of them.

I don’t understand what I did wrong in this situation. Was my case just not serious? Am I making a big deal out of this? I don’t know, but what I do know is I’m afraid to sleep because I’m scared I won’t wake up the following day.

I can feel something wrong in my body, but I can’t explain it, and they won’t listen.

Thank you for reading; I hope you have a fantastic day or night whenever you’re reading.

This will be my last post of 2022. I hope everyone has a great holiday! I will be back on January 8th, 2023. See you all then!

Purple Stitch💜

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The reason for the bow and arrow emojis is that I found this explanation of the bow and arrow and fell in love. One can take any symbol to mean whatever they want, so your meaning of a bow and arrow might differ from mine, and that’s okay. A bow and arrow help me keep my hope and determination in my future. An arrow can only be shot by pulling it backwards. So when life is dragging you back with difficulties, it will launch you into something extraordinary. Just remember to focus and keep your aim.

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